


Between seasons is the longest time.

by Keenir



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Gen, Murdoch Mysteries reference, Sometimes things change between series - but not like we'd think, the parable of Murdoch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keenir/pseuds/Keenir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having struck himself from the rolls of friendship, Jack Robinson (with sage wisdom from Mac and Collins) must try to repair what he has damaged with Miss Phryne Fisher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between seasons is the longest time.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mazily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mazily/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I have only seen episodes 2.02-2.0 {the race cars}. This story takes place following that. (yes, assuming there was a mid-season finale or hiatus following that episode)

_In summation for this poor fellow,_ "Death by mishap, rather than murder; though I'd send a safety officer by," Mac said, to which he nodded agreement.   "Any news from Phryne?"

"None," Jack said.   "Nor any calls from the Wellington police."  At times, he wondered if she'd taken a vacation in the hopes of ending a case-drought plaguing her.  _Then I remember the last case we worked together, and how I admitted how I felt at the thought that she'd died in a car crash, and how I pulled away...then it was awkward between us when we went to our next case.  Not long after that, she focused on cases that didn't involve the police, and from there, to Wellington_.

"That should be good," Mac said, and they both knew what the 'should' - voiced in that way - meant where one Phryne Fisher was concerned: the woman had a habit of at times rubbing people the wrong way, particularly those she disagreed with in investigations.

"Not even a call asking to verify she's licensed or assisted in past policework," Jack said.

"And given how you and she parted company..." Mac said.

"She told you."  It was not a question.  Knowing them, there was no way it could be a question.  Nor that the very fact of its transmission to Mac's ears, had really been in doubt.   "You've got something to say," he said, knowing that she would - _Its not to do with her being a woman: I'd have somethings to say myself to anyone who tore himself out of Phryne's book of friends.  And I have._

"She does things," Mac said.

It took Jack a bit to catch up, having expected rather more than three words that understated.  "That she does," he agreed.

"You knew that already," again stating obvious experience. 

"I did."

Looking up from the cadaver to meet his eyes, and opting to save the stinkeye for later, Mac added, "Then what changed?"

Jack thought that over, as he'd done this past week, mulling over what had been the change, the impetus.  "The transmission method."

"This should be good," Mac said to herself.

"Before, I was on hand to witness Miss Fisher's...exuberance and tendency to flirt with danger."

"Not always."  _And don't tell me your change is because you weren't around to protect her, because you and I both know she's a better fighter than you are._

"True," Jack agreed.  "And those times I wasn't present, it was Miss Fisher herself who informed me of the variety of risky things she had done prior to my arrival on the scenes of the crimes."

"Ah, and this time, you were hearing about it secondhand."  _With bad reception, having to pick out words... nobody wants that._

He nodded.

"You hypercorrected - you tried to solve it, but went too far in the opposite direction," Mac said.

Another nod.  "I've got few enough good friends, and I've already lost one to automobiles."

"So you backed away before the number rachetted any higher."

"Too far," Jack confirmed.

"Then tell her so," Mac said.

Jack looked at Mac.

"When she comes back from Wellington."

Nod.

* * *

"How was Wellington?" Mac asked.

"Well enough," Phryne said. 

"See any action?"

Slightly startled for a moment at the bluntness of the inquiry, Phryne said, "Yes, I did...or believed I did," and shook her head.

"If you'd rather not -"

"I thought a sheep was asking me to find his owner - I was wearing a pocketless outfit at the time, so no.  We found the herdsman in question, having what I saw as being an affair with the local tanner's wife.  As it transpired, it wasn't an affair: the tanner and his wife hadn't been able to become pregnant, so they had agreed to ask the sheepherder to help her get pregnant." 

 _Its as though the universe is actively trying to keep you from embarking on potentially risky investigation-adventures._   "Could be worse," Mac offered.

"Yes.  Worse," Phryne said.

"Are you and Jack still at it?" Mac asked.

In lieu of an answer, Phryne leaned forwards, "Surely this -" she said, looking from the more-than-suspicious indentation in the victim's cranium, to Mac, who shook her head, cutting off Phryne's question.  "No?"

"That tallies in with what his murderer said when he confessed everything he did," Mac said.

"So thus far, there's nothing to suggest he's taking the fall for anyone else," Phryne half-asked half-said.

"Thus far," Mac agreed.  Seeing how her friend was, virtually proofreading Mac's autopsies of late - both pre and post Wellington - Mac suggested "But then, even the finest uniforms can miss vital clues," knowing that, even if nobody else did, Jack understood.

Phryne brightened a bit.  "They do.  Nobody can spot everything."

_Unless your name is Phryne Fisher.  Though where you and Jack are concerned, I wonder; the two of you need to sit down and talk...like you used to._

But, this time, even she could spy nothing more.

* * *

"Sir?" Hugh Collins asked.

"What?" Jack asked.  _If he shows me another letter Dot wrote for him in Wellington, and gave him upon her return with Miss Fisher...  Its a joy to watch someone else be so happy - but everything has a point where those not in the relationship  want them to just go be happy together._

"Well, when I was in training, learning how to be a policeman, one of our guest lecturers was Inspector George Crabtree."

_I'd heard thicker Canadian accents than his, before and since._

"Well, you see, he started telling me about his youth, when he was a Constable.  And a bit of what he told me, sir, it reminds me of you."

"I remind you of a young Inspector Crabtree?" Jack asked.

"Oh no, sir, not the Inspector.  Some guy by the name of 'Murdoch.'"

 _Yes, there was_ a _mention of him in the lecture - more in passing than anything._ "Really?  And what about me reminds you of Inspector Crabtree's former superior officer?"

"You and Miss Fisher.  You're dancing around one another, and it took years for that Murdoch fellow to act on his feelings, and a couple of times it was too late, and in the end, it almost was too late for good."

"I see."  _While its nice to know one isn't alone, its slightly distressing to know that, when it happened to someone else, it came too close to utter disaster.  Probably the point of relating it to me.  Problem is, while I don't know about whomever Murdoch was friends with, I know my best chance of speaking with Phryne is at the scene of a murder and the ensuing investigation; without that, as has been the case lately, I haven't been able to explain myself or clarify or do anything which would at least patch over what happened, if not repair what I did._

"Oh good."

"Thank you for the advice, Collins.  Take the afternoon off," Jack said.

"Sir?" fairly sure he was right to panic.

"Unless you know something I don't, we don't have any active investigations, or even any questions needing to be asked.  So go, take Dot for a walk or to a museum."  _Who knows, maybe you'll stumble on something...maybe you'll have a wonderful date with Dot.  Maybe both._

"Oh.  Understood, sir.  And thank you," and left, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

 "Me," Jack said to Mac; had they been discussing anyone else, it would have been a full question.

"You," Mac agreed. _Phryne's back in the country for a month now._   She was beginning to give consideration to the idea of taking Phryne and Jack, and locking them in a room together.

_Phryne wouldn't have any difficulty finding anyone else to ask her to accompany them to the upcoming Policemans Ball.   But that's not the issue or the point._

"And," Mac said, "if she has to ask her second-favorite officer to dance with her, you'll be left questioning Dot about a murder."

Most anyone else might've worried at that, some pressing for more information.  But Jack knew how much of that was kidding, and how much was the fact of his officer's - and Phryne's young friend's - relationship, quiet and low-key as it had been for a time.  _And often the quiet ones are the most dangerous - which Mac knows as well as I do._ "I'll speak to her."

* * *

 "Hopeless," Phryne declared.

Having been shown in, Jack knocked on the doorframe, and came to a neighboring chair at her nod.  "May I?" Jack asked. _Now there's something else to discuss besides my gaff and the upcoming ball._

Phryne handed him the top few sheets, and he looked through them, beginning with...

 ~~'It was a dark & stormy night,' she said,~~ 

 ~~'CLUCK!' went the murder weapon.~~  

"I don't see a problem," Jack said, looking up from the papers.

"My fingers are dry," Phryne said.

"Is that how you've been writing these?"

"Ha, Jack.  I mean the stories don't flow - I strike those lines out, because my mind refuses to tell me what happens next."

"Okay, how about telling me why someone would be killed with a chicken?" Jack asked.

"Not even that," she said.  "Everything is going so smoothly everywhere I am a member or a patron of, so I thought I would once again try penning my own detective fiction."

 _Again?_   "Pretty sure I'd remember reading something with your distinctive voice, Miss Fisher," Jack said.  "Though likely the booksellers were out of copies when I paid them visits."

"I never published," Phryne said.  "I was eight at the time, and I doubt many would be interested in a sleuthing horse."

"I'd read that."

"Because you know me."

 _If I deny that, she might take offense.  If I agree, she'll probably take offense._ "Because sleuthing people has been done to death."

"I daresay someone's written about just that," Phryne agreed with a smile.

"Maybe, but not using a chicken," Jack said, smiling too.

A companionable silence fell, one neither of them was quick to break, rare as these things were lately.

"So, what brings you by?" Phryne asked.

 _If I say 'concern', I might be treading on dangerous ground, something that would've been easier to handle before I spoke so rashly._   "There's something I want to say to you, but first, Mac and I have a question."

 _'Mac and I'?_ Phryne's mind tried racing away with that tidbit, but kept drawing short because of one highly relevant fact: _I know them both.  Had it been anyone else, investigation or no, I might have speculated that that idle set of three words was a harbinger of something more momentous...possibly something button-popping and heartracing._   "You do?  Both of you?" not entirely happy that that second question emerged.

"We do," Jack said, figuring that if this went awry, Mac could kill any part of him that Phryne didn't.   "No new cases?" Jack asked.

She blinked.  "A few," Phryne groaned.   "All infidelity.  The widow Terlow asked me to look into one Jake McMasters, make certain he wasn't straying.  He wasn't; poor boy didn't know what to do when anyone but his wife - the widow's daughter - flirted with him.  I witnessed that," Phryne added; _With whats happened between Jack and I, best add that, as I can't be certain our old assurances remain in place._    "The rest were simpler, even more open and shut."

"I've made some inquiries," Jack said.  "No response yet on when the challenging cases will resume."

Phryne sighed, the sound itself an admission that things were more than not to her liking, _It's as though reality itself were behaving out of character, and has been so for the entirety of this drought_.  "Thank you, Jack.  You always know just what to do to cheer me up."

"I used to.  Now, not so sure."

She raised an eyebrow that more than a few had called 'arched' and 'elegant' and 'proof of spiritual royalty' - she at times wondered what happened to that last guy.  "You've already proven yourself, Jack."

"I had.  But that was...It was before."

The look on Phryne's face was a mix of curiosity with a dash of expectation.  "Don't let me stop you," she said.

And so Jack figuratively spilled his guts, unloading his thoughts so that, shared, they were not so ponderous and burdensome; telling her everything about what had crossed his mind this past month and then some, what he and Mac and even he and Collins had discussed on the matter... _amusing Phryne no end there_.

And when he finished, she looked at him, soaking it all up, for he had given her plenty to chew over, mulling.

Quickly enough, though - unsurprising to those who knew the quickness of her mind - she said, "Why don't you and I say, aloud, now, to each other, what we think of one another, and what we'd like the other to think of us?"

"That, sounds more than agreeable," Jack said. 

"I suspect your estimation of me -"

"Has never wavered.  It was my estimation of myself and confidence in myself, that fell, setting that all in motion.

"And what if what I think of you, is not what you think of me?" Phryne inquired.

"You know me better than to think I'm only after one thing with you," Jack replied.

"I do," she agreed.  "Though if I tell you you and I should evermore be friends, naught more than that?"

"Then I'm a very happy man."

"And if I tell you we should be far more than friends?"

"Again, I'm a very happy man then."

Phryne frowned, indifferent to if he saw through that gesture.  "Is there anything which does not end with you being very happy?"

"Being informed you no longer wish to see me again in any capacity."

"Oh, what you did?" she teased.

Jack had the good grace to bow his head and look properly ashamed for that.  "I did, and though I intended it to be only in a social and personal context, it was a mistake."

"Yes."

"And, horrid as that was to experience, it would be worse to not even see you in a professional context."

"Or any other," she added.

Jack's brain set that aside for closer inspection later - _sometimes, thats all one can do_ \- and said, "Yes."

She sighed, a different sound than earlier in the afternoon.  "Then I suppose you must suffer through it, Jack Robinson..."

"I see.  Well, thank you, Miss Fisher, for your time and -"

"...For I shall not stop being your friend," Phryne finished her statement, thoroughly relishing the look on Jack's face, mostly at not being shown the door.  And if there was a part of him that betrayed how he felt at the tone in her statement's end, Phryne relished that too, for _if something more transpires, the two of us are ready for it, being mature adults experienced in most everything under the sun has thrown at us.  And if we never reach that stage, or dance around it, well, neither of us will ever cry foul._

"Miss?" Dot asked, standing at the doorway, "there's a call for you."

Phryne and Jack smiled at one another.


End file.
